One More Mountain to Climb
by Winchester Mythology
Summary: "Every time we get close, it always falls apart." Tensions run high when Dean makes it back from the AU and guilt has always been the Winchesters' bedfellow. One-shot broment tag to 13x18 Bring 'Em Back Alive.


**One of the things I am LOVING about Season 13 are all these one-shot opportunities that it's giving me. I've got some multi-chapter ones planned, but, yet again, this wormed its way into my head and refused to go until I put fingers to keyboard.**

 **I think the whole fandom flinched when Sam did…damn, Dean can shout!**

 **Enjoy!**

oOo

 _"You've only got one more river to cross_

 _One more storm to go through_

 _You've only got one more journey to walk_

 _I know the water's wide."_

 _\- Journey On, Elms District_

oOo

"SON OF A BITCH!"

Sam flinched, recoiling at the ferocity of Dean's anger. His heart thumped and he fought the urge to step back, instantly feeling like a recalcitrant child.

"EVERY TIME!"

The roar stabbed guilt straight through him, poignant and so sharp it stole his breath and he had to work to force air in and out of his lungs. His heart hurt instantly, pained the display of hurt in front of him.

"Every time we get close, it always falls apart. Every freakin' time," Dean snarled as Sam's eyes fell away from the hard set of his brother's shoulders. His breath came heavy and fast as he fought the guilt that was rising within him. He felt Cas glance at him, but the angel's attention moved back to Dean, his reply morphing into white noise inside the youngest Winchester's head.

He'd failed Dean. Again.

Dean was right; they were always so close but they were never close enough.

In an instant, the bunker became oppressive and claustrophobic. With the white noise building in his head, Sam stepped backwards, turning from Dean and Cas and heading silently down the stairs past the telescope. He needed air.

The ringing in his head intensified, melding into the pounding of blood in his ears until his pace quickened. Keeping his eyes trained straight ahead, Sam headed towards the garage, taking the steps two at a time. The lights flickered on automatically overhead as he entered, gleaming off the polished exteriors of their extensive car collection. He walked past the Impala, his fingers brushing against its cool metal, the touch bringing him a modicum of comfort as he slid past it. The door to the garage was closed, but he punched in a quick code, a light popping sound resonating through the cavernous space as he unlocked a small side door. Closing it quietly behind him, Sam walked off to the left along a small, almost imperceptible trail that led up the grassy hillock that the bunker was nestled into. Climbing it steadily, Sam focused on the feel of his calves stretching out as he went up, using the feel of his body moving to drown out the pounding in his head.

At the top, the hunter stopped and took a deep breath, running his hand back through his hair when the breeze blew it across his forehead, easing away the white noise that had rung so loudly inside the bunker. Sam took a moment before he sat himself down on the grassy knoll, letting one long leg stretch out in front of him while the other remained bent. He rested his elbow on it, running his hand back through his hair again before focusing his gaze out to the horizon.

He could see Lebanon stretching out across his view, the town a light-coloured squatter amongst a sea of green. The sky was still a rich blue, unwilling to set for another couple of hours. It was peppered with a few wispy clouds, none that could threaten any real kind of rain. It looked…peaceful.

How was it that the world always looked fine when his own was trying to fall apart yet again?

 _SON OF A BITCH!_

The ghost of his brother's roar made him close his eyes, clenching his jaw. He knew Dean wasn't shouting at him – he did – but…Dean rarely lost it like that. Not in front of Sam. Not in front of anyone. And it hurt like hell to see him that way. All Dean wanted, all either of them wanted, was a win. For something to go right _for once_.

And it was his fault.

He should've known Asmodeus was going to come looking for them. He should've warded the bunker earlier. Better. He shouldn't have used the last of the grace on Gabriel. He should've made the archangel stay.

So many things that he could have done that would have made for a totally different reaction when Dean got back. To see him back without their mom or Jack or, hell, even Charlie, had been…Sam blinked and shoved it away. Dean had done all he could and Sam knew he would have tried everything. In that, Sam had no doubts. For his brother to feel defeated like that but coming back through that portal, knowing he could make it right again with another shot, only to find that Sam had blown it…

Self-loathing bubbled hot and hard through Sam, solidifying in his gut. No wonder Dean has exploded. He'd been through hell by the look of it in the other world and Sam had let him down. Again. Every time he tried to do what he thought was right, it backfired.

Sam bowed his head, his fingers threading through the soft bangs of his hair and staying there. He stared down at the ground, watching the individual strands of grass flutter and dance in the breeze drifting up the hill as he fell into the pit, feeling guilty for wallowing, but unable to stop himself.

The sun drifted down, edging towards the horizon, the blue bleeding into shades of orange and scarlet, shooting fire across the sky. If it had been any other day, if Sam had been paying attention, he would've noticed its beauty. But the world had turned grey.

"Figured you'd be here."

The voice made him jump and he looked up as Dean stepped up next to him. His brother's expression was soft, the angry lines dissipated even though his mouth was unsmiling. Worry had settled in the green of his eyes. In one hand he held two beer bottles, one of which he held out to Sam, waiting for him to take it, before he lowered himself to the ground next to his brother. Unscrewing the cap from his bottle, Dean put it in his jacket pocket and took a long, slow mouthful, his tongue snaking over his lower lip as he swallowed. He said nothing, but sat there, watching the sun sink lower. Sam looked down at the beer cooling his fingertips, wishing he could make the last twenty-four hours rewrite themselves.

"I'm sorry, Sammy."

Sam's gaze snapped up, looking across at Dean, his brother's eyes already on him. His brow crinkled.

"I shouldn't…I shouldn't have blown up like that," Dean explained, his eyes apologetic.

"Dean you were angry. You have every right to explode," Sam replied, his frown deepening before loosening as he turned his gaze away. "If anyone should be saying sorry it's me."

Dean was silent for a moment as realisation hit.

"Sam, I wasn't angry at _you_. Hell, I don't blame you for any of this! Why would you think that?"

And suddenly, Sam felt twelve years old again. Awkward and sheepish, feeling like he'd been caught handling John's guns when he'd been told not to. He hated that there was always a part of his mind that took him back to that childish stance. It rose up and coupled with the guilt from every time they'd fought and he'd been wrong. Dean staring up at him broken and bloodied on the floor of the hotel room in Cold Spring, Minnesota flashed across his mind's eye, dredging up the shame that was years old and always brought itself forwards first.

"I was supposed to fix Gabriel. Not do that by giving back his grace and then letting him go," Sam mumbled, still not looking at Dean. "I didn't think…I thought he would stay. I needed him…I needed him to realise that he actually had a purpose, y'know? That he could do some good in this world rather than hiding in it. Guess I haven't learnt much over the years, have I? If he wasn't juiced, I could've made him stay."

"Sam…if you hadn't supercharged Gabriel, you and Cas'd be dead," Dean growled, his tone finally getting Sam to look at him. His heart ached when he saw the fierce protectiveness flaring up in his brother's eyes. "Look, I didn't handle that particularly well. I'd just watched a load of douchebag angels firin' at Ketch and Charlie. And I couldn't help them – the rift was closin' and I had to run. I wanted to bring Mom and Jack back so bad. I just…I wanted us to have a win. We couldn't have known that Asmodeus was gonna know where Gabriel was let alone get in the bunker."

"But now we've got nothing to get us back to Apcalypse World!"

"I'd rather that than comin' back here and findin' you dead, Sammy," Dean murmured, looking away and fixing his eyes on the horizon. Sam blinked, pushing back the tears that had welled.

"But you said…"

"I didn't mean it. Not like that." Sam watched Dean struggle to find the words, his gaze forwards and his shoulders rising and falling in a tired shrug. "I wanted to bring them back to you, Sam. That I couldn't…I failed you, man, and I'm sorry. I know how much you wanted it."

"You know I don't think like that, Dean. I'd never blame you. I _know_ you. You did everything you could," Sam replied, his voice trembling around the edges of his words.

For a moment they were silent together, just staring out across the darkening landscape. Sam huffed a mirthless laugh and Dean cast his eyes sideways.

"What?"

"You. Me. Guilt's always riding one of us."

"Part of the way we are, I guess. Sucks, doesn't it?"

"Yeah…just for once, it'd be nice if it didn't. If we got that win without any strings attached," Sam sighed, finally dragging a mouthful of beer.

"That it would. But, Sam, listen," Dean turned to him again, "you know I'd never blame you, right? I know I get angry and I say the wrong shit sometimes, but it's never aimed at you."

"Yeah, I know," Sam replied, giving him a small smile, some of the guilt lifting from around his heart. It was never going to go away, but moments like this, moments where he could talk it through with his brother, helped him to push it back behind the floodgates. Until next time. Because there was always a next time. "So what now?"

"We start again. We find another way. Same as we always do," Dean nodded, pushing himself up off the ground and holding out his hand to his brother. "No more guilt?"

Sam smiled, grabbing his hand and hauling himself up. "I won't if you won't."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, right. Baby steps, kiddo. C'mon. Let's go find the other way." Turning, the brothers left the sunset behind, Dean's hand clasping Sam's shoulder as the youngest brother led the way. It was a small gesture, but it always meant one thing for him.

Comfort.

As long as they fought together, they'd find the way.

oOo

 **Short and simple, but I NEEDED a broment following that end scene like I need air.**

 **Please review!**


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